Allspice
by talcumpowder
Summary: Roxas needs some warming up. DemyxRoxas, ftw!


**Pre-Notes:**Happy whatever holiday you celebrate! Personally, mine is Winter Solstice. I'm not offended if you celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Ramadan. Just not Kwanzaa, because my spellcheck denies that it's a word and I deny that it's a holiday.  
**Disclaimer:** Kairi would _not_ have that ugly keyblade if I owned it.  
**Summary:** Roxas needs some warming up.

----

Allspice  
"_There's better things than that._"

The pile of blankets was breathing. It was also, if Demyx wasn't mistaken, cursing out Father Christmas in at least three languages. He walked over and pulled back the blankets and they were immediately pulled back.

"Y'know," Demyx said quietly, "I might need some of those blankets tonight."

Something that sounded an awful lot like "fuck you" came out from the blankets and the pile of blankets went back to breathing and cursing. Demyx sat down next to the pile and patted it. Roxas poked his head out of the pile and pouted.

"I am cold. I am miserable. I do not want to talk and I need something hot that is not hot chocolate and not tea. I am sick of tea and hot chocolate makes me sick."

Demyx kissed Roxas and got up.

"I'm going to make you something and you are going to like it. Wait here."

The pile of blankets said something which sounded like "not moving. ever." Demyx laughed and walked into the kitchen. He held his arms akimbo and tilted his head. There was a jug of apple cider on the counter, which was supposed to be for the Christmas turkey. Demyx figured this was a much better cause, so he grabbed that and rummaged through the spice rack.

They had to have cinnamon and nutmeg somewhere. Sora was always baking and Demyx was pretty sure that those were staple ingredients. Then again, he'd been banned from baking after he'd confused the _TSP_ with the _TBSP_ and had made some really watery royal icing. Sora never completely forgave him after that and rightfully so.

Demyx finally located the cinnamon and nutmeg and grabbed the huge stockpot from the hanging rack. He poured the cider in and dropped in a few sticks of cinnamon and some whole nutmeg. And a little allspice, just to be safe. A quick stir as Demyx grabbed the bear-shaped honey bottle and squeezed in about a half-cup of honey and the mixture seemed like a really awful science project.

A quick search found Demyx with a lemon and a Microplane grater. He quickly zested the lemon and then squeezed the juices into the pot too. A quick twist of a knob made the stove spring to life and Demyx hummed happily as he stirred the mixture a little. He danced around the kitchen and waited for about fifteen minutes before Roxas wandered into the kitchen, complete with every blanket in the house, and curled up next to the stove.

"Roxy," Demyx sang, "move away from the stove or the blankets are going to catch on fire. Again."

The pile of blankets shifted about five inches away from the stove. It mumbled something that Demyx didn't quite catch, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was "one time." Demyx shook his head and stirred the bubbling pot a bit before crouching down and poking the blanket mountain.

"Fifteen minutes and you'll be nice and warm again."  
Roxas poked his head out, "Christmas season sucks major balls."

He went back into the pile of blankets and Demyx sighed. He stood up and added a little more allspice into the pot. Demyx figured Roxas could use it. About ten minutes later, Demyx ladled out a mug of the concoction and crouched down to hand it to the pile of blankets.

"Here ya go, grumpyhead. But you're gonna have to sit up."

The pile of blankets shifted a little to reveal Roxas. His upper body, at least. He grabbed the mug, downed most of it and proceeded to break into a coughing fit.

"What in the Mother of Jesus Christ twice over was that shit-tastic drink?!"  
"Wassail."  
"Wazat?"  
"Wassail. Mulled cider in close relation to wintertime celebrations in Northern Europe."  
"For a second there, you sounded intelligent, Demyx. I _know_ what wassail is. I want to know what you did to a reasonable drink to make it taste like a truck of cloves just ran over me."  
Demyx shrugged, "Allspice. I thought you could use some, Roxy."  
"_What_?"  
"Allspice is apparently good for the digestive system. You seem like you're going to give yourself an ulcer."

Roxas fumed a little before holding the mug out and glaring. Demyx laughed, took the mug and filled it again. He handed it back to Roxas, who downed it with a decided grimace. The mug was held out again and Demyx took it.

He spoke as he ladled out another cup, "If this were alcoholic, I'd be really worried about the way you're drinking it."  
Roxas snatched the cup and snorted, "I'm not drinking it through a straw if that makes you feel any better."

He drained the cup and held it for a moment before looking up at Demyx. Demyx looked at Roxas and blinked. He barely noticed as the mug was set on the floor and Roxas pulled him into a kiss. He was pushed back onto the tile and roving hands danced along his midsection.

Demyx pushed Roxas away and made a face. Roxas sighed.

"Fine. I won't resort to alternative means to keep me warm."  
"What about you can't open presents until Christmas don't you get, Roxy?"

He laughed as he stood up to refill Roxas' mug. Roxas pouted.

----

**Postit-Notes:** Yes, short and sappy Christmas fluff. I'd do other holidays, but I'm not too familiar with them and there's nothing sexy about Hanukkah or Festivus. And you know what? My inner editor brokded.


End file.
